Love and Hate Reversed, No Life Left

After my seventh miscarriage, the doctor gave me a death sentence. If I miscarried again, I would die on the operating table. To stay alive, for the first time I asked Jack for a divorce. His cold, disgusted face showed a hairline crack, and he agreed with a sneer. The next day, I woke up locked inside the greenhouse, the heat cranked to a hundred and forty degrees. "Sophie James, what makes you think you have any right to ask me for a divorce?!"